


First Times

by Cerinh (AnnieAmazing)



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Additional Chapters May Be Added, Bromance, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Memories, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-08-26 21:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16689415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieAmazing/pseuds/Cerinh
Summary: As they're sitting in the dark after a fight, Kaoru revisits how he and Die met for the first time.





	1. Recollection

**Author's Note:**

> This *might* get additional chapters at some point. I actually started writing it with multiple flashbacks in mind, different scenes from different years. But I like how this chapter ended and I can't really see a way to include all the other stuff I wanted to write without completly nullifying the ending.
> 
> Also, I still kind of have to finish the last chapter of a Sherlock story I started to write (and post) YEARS ago. (I'm so sorry.)

It’s dark in the room. All I can see is the flare of a lighter igniting a cigarette from opposite me and the blueish moonlight cascading in through the windows, outlining the silhouette of my co-worker and probably best friend in the whole world.

Wordlessly, we stare at each other through the darkness, have been for a while now. I can barely make out his eyes and the look on his face, and I’m not sure I want to see. He might still be angry. We'd had this fight earlier, you see, about nothing, really. It was stupid, both of us just frustrated that nothing we composed seemed to work. So one of us snapped first, I don't even remember who. We blamed each other, eventually started yelling. I think I even threw something at him. And now we sit here. At least we don't glare at each other anymore.

The silence is deafening, only occasionally interrupted by one of us lighting a smoke or taking a drink from a bottle of beer. It’s at the same time strange and familiar, gives me anxiety over all too many things. I'd rather have him yelling at me again. At least I'd know how to handle _that._ I have no idea what to say, or do, and it’s all I can do to stare back at Die.  
  
He breathes in a heavy drag of nicotine, sighs it out and blinks, before suddenly, finally, breaking the silence that enveloped us like a veil.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” His voice is soft, a little shaky perhaps, or maybe I’m just imagining that.  
  
Good question. What _am_ I thinking about?  
  
I shrug and shift forward from my position on the couch to grab his pack of cigarettes from the coffee table between us. I pick one, light it and greedily inhale before sitting back a bit. My elbows are resting on my thighs as I bring my right and left hand together, looking down at them, focusing on the glow of the cancer stick between my middle and forefinger.  
  
After another long drag from my cigarette, I look back up at him. He’s still staring, and for the life of me, I can’t read his eyes. Which, in all fairness, might have more to do with the fact that it’s dark, rather than anything else, but it still unsettles me.  
  
“First times,” I whisper finally, carefully, into the darkness, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear.  
  
I’m surprised when he answers me with a chuckle. I can clearly make out a small grin on his face. “Like what?” he asks then, and I snort.  
  
“Like, everything. Every single little thing,” I say simply and take another drag from my cigarette.  
  
As he nods, the moonlight illuminates strands of his hair and it’s beautiful. I don’t tell him that. Instead, I swallow and crush the butt of my cigarette in what I believe is my ashtray. Could have been a saucer. I really don’t care.  
  
“Tell me about them,” Die finally says, silently, and I release a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding.  
  
I hum in the back of my throat, scratching behind my right ear as I drop my gaze to the floor. I choose my next words very carefully.  
  
“Like the first time we met.”

**. . .**

_Sometime late in 1994, probably November._  
  
I was in this band, _CHARM,_ playing the guitar. I could play like eight chords and so I thought I was a god. I tried writing my own songs, but they never really amounted to anything, never felt complete. And so I thought I was a failure. I didn’t know what I was, who I was, really. All I knew was I loved making music, and I wanted to do it for the rest of my life.  
  
I wanted to be like my idols from big-name bands like X Japan and Luna Sea, and I was determined to become just as famous. One day.  
  
Our lead singer, Yun, managed to land us a gig at a small club. Since we didn’t have any own songs yet, we had to play some covers. It was awesome, playing in front of what I thought was such a big crowd. Maybe fifty people. And they cheered. They applauded. They sang the lyrics of the songs we played with us.  
  
I was on a high when I left the little stage, feeling giddy and as if I was about to burst with happiness. We had a ball that night, after storing away our instruments in Yun’s brother’s van. Lots of dancing, drinking, and flirting with strangers. I got drunk off my ass. So much so that at some point, Yun decided he should take me home. Not in the van, of course. That would remain parked behind the club until he was sober enough or his brother kicked his ass. Whichever happened first, I suppose.  
  
The cool night’s air hit me in the face like a tonne of bricks once I stepped out of the club. I was still trying to put on my jacket correctly -- for the life of me I couldn’t get my left arm to find its way into the fake leather fabric. Would have been embarrassing if I wasn’t such a happy drunk that night.  
  
I took several deep breaths and fished in my pocket for the little cardboard box that held my cigarettes and a lighter. I wobbled on my feet. Yun laughed at me and grabbed for my hands before I could fall. Then, still giggling, he helped me put my jacket on properly.  
  
“Thanks,” I lulled, and all but fell against him. He snorted in my ear, put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back. Told me to hold on, he needed to pee. Went back inside.  
  
I stood there, kind of falling back against the wall of the club he’d just disappeared into again and looked up at the sky. I probably grinned like an idiot, trying to count the stars. Then, I remembered I wanted to smoke.  
  
Fishing a cigarette out of the pack, I put it between my lips and felt in my pockets for my lighter. Couldn’t find it. Tapped all my pockets again. Still nothing. Groaned.  
  
Later, at home, I would find it in my pack of cigarettes. But I didn’t when I needed it. Which was probably a good thing right then.  
  
I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching me, didn’t realise there was someone near me until the flame of a lighter was ignited in front of my face and a clear, gentle voice said, “Need a light?”  
  
I looked to the right into a smiling, incredibly pretty face with gentle cinnamon eyes, framed by long, black hair.  
  
“Thanks,” I mumbled around the cigarette between my lips and used the offered flame to light it. I took a deep, satisfying drag, closing my eyes for just a moment, feeling myself slowly come back down to earth, sobering up. “And hi.”  
  
“Hi,” you replied simply and lit your own cancer stick, taking two small, greedy drags from it.  
  
We just stood there, staring out into the night sky for a while, saying nothing.  
  
Then, “I saw you play tonight. Pretty amazing how you work your fingers.” Your voice was gentle and soft, almost caressing in its nature. I briefly wondered if you always sounded like that and if so, if you were a singer. You should be a singer.  
  
I smiled. “Thank you. I _felt_ pretty amazing tonight.”  
  
You laughed. A peculiar sound. So clear, yet so mysterious and dark. So very different from my low rumble. I loved it. Wanted to hear it again.  
  
“The name’s Die, by the way. Daisuke, actually, but I hate when people call me that.” I don’t know why I thought what I did then, ‘I’ll remember that.’  
  
You held your fist out for me to bump it. I did.  
  
“Kaoru,” I supplied then, feeling warm despite the chilly winter night.  
  
“That’s a pretty name… Kaoru,” you said, emphasising every vowel, and offering me another smile, “fits you.”  
  
I know I blushed then. “I, uh, … thanks? I guess?” I dropped my gaze to the ground, suddenly very interested in my shoe laces. Then I reminded myself I wasn’t a goddamned blushing teenager anymore. I could handle compliments. And flirting. Were you… flirting with me?  
  
I gathered some courage and looked back up at you, my cheeks still burning a little. “What makes you say that, though? Contrary to what my name suggests, I don’t always smell good. Right now, I probably smell of tobacco and cheap beer.”  
  
There it was again. Your laugh. It sounded like music to my ears. It took me years to realise that I’d had a crush on you ever since I heard you laugh.  
  
“And some cheap skank’s perfume, no doubt,” you added, still chuckling, “I saw how they were all over you in there.”  
  
I shrugged and grinned sheepishly. Took a last drag from my cigarette and discarded it on the concrete sidewalk.  
  
“I meant, however,” you spoke up again, “that it fits you, ‘cause you’re pretty. Like your name. Very… pretty.”  
  
I felt another blush creep up my cheeks as your eyes sparkled amusedly at me, and gooseflesh rose on my arms and neck. I suddenly felt very hot. And like I needed to run. Or somehow diffuse this situation.  
  
So I did the first thing that came to my mind. Giggled like a girl. And then, clearing my throat, asked, “Gee, are you trying to get in my pants or something?”  
  
You chuckled and slightly shook your head. To this day I still don’t know if it was to say no or just out of amusement. But you did decline. Sort of.  
  
“Just making conversation, dude.” U-huh. Very manly conversation.  
  
“Yeah, right,” I retorted with an amused grunt.  
  
You shrugged. “Actually, I approached you because I really liked your playing. Not my fault you’re kinda cute.”  
  
“A-hah! So you _are_ trying to get into my pants!” I felt very light-headed in that moment. And like I was just a small step away from going home with you, a complete stranger. Despite very firmly believing I was straight. But that’s beside the point. Also, _actually_ wasn’t what you wanted.  
  
“Nu-uh, it’s just how I’m wired. I flirt.” You shrugged again, fidgeting with the zipper of your jacket pocket. You didn’t look me in the eye, then. And you didn’t smile.  
  
“Sorry to bother you,” was the last thing you said before you turned around and started walking away.  
  
I blinked, baffled. Then, pushed myself off the brick wall I was still leaning against, following you with hurried steps. I don’t know why, exactly, but I had this feeling that I couldn’t just let you walk out of my life right then. It felt like I was beside myself, watching from somewhere behind me as I reached for your wrist to stop you in your tracks.  
  
You did stop, but you didn’t turn around, probably embarrassed.  
  
“Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I don’t mind being flirted at. Especially by someone so pretty.” I heard myself say the words before I could stop me. In the next moment, I wanted to smack myself. And then another moment later, I kind of wanted to do a happy little dance. Because you turned around and offered me a half-smile.  
  
I let go of your wrist and we just looked each other in the eyes for what felt like an eternity. And then burst out laughing.  
  
I suddenly felt giddy with excitement again, lots of confusing and contradicting feelings coursing through me, but most of all, I was just happy you stayed. I didn’t know why, but I felt connected to you. Like you were a part of me that had been missing. That I had been unknowingly, blindly searching for. And just like that I had found it. Found you.  
  
Years later Yun told me that when he returned, he saw the two of us together and he thought we looked kind of _‘in the middle of something’_ \-- whatever that means. So he decided to not interrupt and leave me with you. I almost broke his ribs with the crushing hug I gave him for that.  
  
I did go home with you that night. Forgot the lighter I found in my pack of cigs at your place. We talked until the sun came up. You played me a song you had begun to write on your guitar. We finished it together. It was the first song I ever wrote that felt right. You made it right.  
  
You and I became fast friends after that night; eventually I joined your band to replace Shio as La:Sadie's lead guitarist. And I loved talking to you about everything and nothing. And I loved flirting with you on occasion. And writing songs. Still do. You’re my best friend. And, cheesy as that may sound, I like to think you’re also my soulmate. Or something like that.

**. . .**

I finish my tale, staring at the fingers holding the remnants of yet another cigarette. I shouldn’t have told it like that. Why did I mention that I had a crush on him? _Stupid._  
  
I can hear the springs of the old leather armchair across the room creak angrily as Die moves. And then, five hurried footsteps later, he’s kneeling in front of me. Gently prying the cigarette butt from my fingers, he dumps it into the ashtray. Or saucer. Whatever. His fingers curl around my hands, separating them, putting them on my knees.  
  
Die’s hands positively burn my skin through my shirt as they grab my shoulders, pulling me against him for a hug. His arms close around me and I can feel the long, calloused fingers of his left hand gliding into the hair at the nape of my neck, gently caressing the skin there. My head automatically drops onto his shoulder, my hands move to and around his hips of their own accord. All of this is so very familiar, so welcome.  
  
I release a breath I once again hadn't noticed I had been holding. I feel safe in Die’s arms.  
  
His voice cracks slightly when he speaks, almost as if he was about to cry. “I love you,” he says, a broken whisper that I almost can’t hear over the blood rushing in my ears and my heart pounding in my throat.  
  
I smile, equal measures happy and excited. “I know you do,” I reply, also kind of whispering. I feel like my heart is fluttering on top of my vocal chords, stopping me from actually using my voice.  
  
Briefly I remember back to the first time Die had said that to me. He said it out of friendship. The kind of deep best-friend sort of friendship he and I have after so many years of hanging around one another. And I answered then exactly what I said now -- I know you do.  
  
And I know he always will be. But sometimes I wonder if this kind of love is enough. I did mention I had a crush on him, didn’t I? Well, it never really went away. If anything, over the years it got stronger, more prominent.  
  
Of course, I can’t say any of this out loud. It would ruin the moment. Not our friendship, I know that. But it could make things between us awkward for a while. And I really don’t want that. So I’ll be content with what we have. I can’t risk losing that, not even for a short while.  
  
Die peels himself off me, sits back on his heels and his eyes search mine. It’s still dark and I don’t know if he can even see me clearly. I also don’t know what he’s looking for, or what kind of thoughts and feelings I’m putting on display, but I let him read me anyway.  
  
Whatever it is he finds, it makes him smile. Die has a very beautiful smile. I clearly remember the first time I told him that. But that’s a story for another time, because right now, all that matters is this moment. All I can see, and feel, and breathe is him. And I realise I’m lost in him; his smile, his warm, gentle eyes, his touch and his sweet smell of honey and something that I can only describe as very distinctly _Die._  
  
“Kaoru,” he whispers, putting emphasis on every vowel in my name, almost humming it. He tends to do this when he wants my attention focused on him, and only him. And it works. Every time.  
  
“Ka-o-ru,” Die all but purrs now, and I offer a hum from the back of my throat by way of answering. He grins. His mouth opens again and I can feel butterflies dancing inside of me at his next words.  
  
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he breathes, as his left hand moves back up to the nape of my neck slowly, gently. Stalling, to see if I’ll approve or decline.  
  
“If that’s what you want,” I tease in a low, husky rumble, once again remembering an episode of our shared past.  
  
I can _feel_ Die rolling his eyes at me, but he grins before deliberately slowly rising from his heels and closing the distance between us. Almost carefully his lips touch mine and the butterflies inside my stomach explode into a million little fireworks.  
  
My fingers curl around his hips automatically, my eyes flutter shut and all I can think of is how wonderful Die tastes. His lips burn mine like a wildfire. One that spreads from my mouth over the skin of my face right down my back.  
  
It’s a mostly innocent kiss, there’s barely any tongue involved, but there also doesn’t need to be. It’s sexy and intoxicating in itself how he gently bites my lower lip, coaxing a gasp from my throat, before lightly sucking on the abused flesh.  
  
Die’s movement stills somewhat then, his lips still lingering, still touching mine, but I know that’s when he’s about to pull back. I can’t help but feel my heart sink. I don’t want to stop yet. Not this time. This time, it’s too good and I want more. I need him to kiss me.  
  
I’m not saying any of this, I never would, but I hope he can sense it in the way my breath hitches and the tremor in my hands.  
  
I can feel him smile against my lips as his tongue comes out to gently lick at them, asking for acceptance, pleading for entry. I’m trying -- and failing -- not to moan as I grant him access and his tongue touches mine for the first time in forever.  
  
I can taste the beer we’ve been drinking and the cigarettes we’ve been smoking on him, mingling with his very own, sweet Die taste and I moan again in the back of my throat.  
  
He gasps when my hands, very much of their own accord, move from his hips up his lower back, pulling him in closer, and down, to rest inside the back pockets of his black skinny jeans, squeezing lightly.  
  
He gets up, bending forward in the process so our kiss won’t break. My hands are still on his ass and I use them to pull him in between my legs. That’s when our kiss breaks. He stands up straight and looks down at me with half-lidded, glazed eyes.  
  
I swallow, hard, and remove my hands from his backside, dropping my gaze to the floor as well. As much as I want to, I can’t let this go further. He deserves better than to be used by me -- someone who is supposed to be his best friend.  
  
Die sighs, I’m not sure at what or how to interpret it, but I swallow. Then, gooseflesh spreads from my neck down my back and my arms, when I feel his hand coming up to my face, cupping my jaw, gently forcing me to look back up at him.  
  
“Kaoru,” he starts, then pauses, clearly searching for words.  
  
“Hmm,” I hum at him by way of response, unable to form a coherent sentence right now. I don’t know what to expect. I feel my body tense. I hate being in the dark about something, no pun intended. Especially something so personal.  
  
“I don’t know,” his voice is barely a ghost of a whisper and he clears his throat, tries again, “I don’t know where this is going to go if we keep… doing… I dunno… this.” Die gestures between us with his free hand. I smile. He’s cute when he’s insecure.  
  
“And,” he continues, “I don’t know if we’ll like where it ends up.” Even in this kind of darkness, I can see him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously. I suppress the urge to get up and nip at it.  
  
“Buuuutttt,” he drags the word out as he speaks. Die does that a lot when he’s really lost and doesn’t know what to say or do. It’s kind of adorable, really. But it also ignites a need to protect him in me, so I grab his hands and smile.  
  
“It’s okay, Die. You’re okay. We’re okay. We can leave what happened right here and let it become a pleasant memory. If that’s what you want.”  
  
He huffs out a breath that sounds distinctly annoyed. “I was _getting_ to that, dumbass,” he all but growls at me, “If you would just let me _finish,_ seriously.”  
  
I raise a questioning eyebrow and stare at him inquisitively for a moment before I realise he probably can’t see any of that. “Go on,” I encourage him then, my voice gentle.  
  
“Yeah. Uh.” Die clears his throat once again and takes in a deep breath. He frees his hands from my grasp and runs them through his red strands.  “As I was saying. No idea where this particular road leads, but, _damn_ I’m horny right now. And I can’t believe I just said that.”  
  
The last bit comes out very quickly, breathlessly. He hides his face behind his hands, and I can imagine him blushing madly. As I process his words, all I can do is laugh, a low rumble in my chest.  
  
I can hear him chuckle as well behind his hands before he drops them to his side and looks at me again.  
  
“Seriously, Kao, how do you do that?” he asks, incredulously, “You didn’t even fucking _touch_ me!”  
  
I huff out a laugh. “You’re asking _me?_ You?” I begin, then shrug, “I learned from the best.” The cheeky grin I give him carries over my voice and I hope he gets the implication.  
  
But he doesn’t. Or maybe he’s just looking for reassurance when he asks, “Meaning?”  
  
I sigh and roll my eyes. “You, silly. I learned that from you. Always hoped I could also pick up how to turn someone on with just a look, but I guess that’s something only you can do. To me, specifically.” Shouldn't have said that.  
  
I can hear him release a deep, shaky breath from his lungs at this revelation. “Well, fuck _me,”_ he breathes and I can’t help but chime in teasingly before he says anything more.  
  
“Should I?”  
  
He clicks his tongue. Crosses his arms in front of his chest. Growls a little.  
  
“Yes, idiot, you _should.”_


	2. Make It Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a break from writing on my "Sense and Sensuality" series (too many feels for me to take right now), so I decided to finally get around to write some more on this here story without voiding the initial ending. This provides me with a nice way to add another chapter at some point if I feel like it -- as I previously mentioned I'd like to write some more flashbacks, maybe to their first "I love you" or their first kiss.  
> There is sex in here (I'd like to call it semi-graphic since it's nothing special, but it _is_ rather descriptive), hence I upped the rating. I didn't actually want anything graphic in this story, but I have to say, I'm quite clueless how to write non-explicit sex scenes; whenever I try it feels weird and out of place. Thus, this.
> 
> Once again written from Kaoru's point of view because I really need to practise first person writing. I hope you'll enjoy.

“Yes, idiot, you _should.”_

There is a long, deafening silence. I stare at him wide-eyed. I imagined that, didn’t I? There’s no way in hell he actually wants me to sleep with him. Right?

I must look rather pitiful, working my jaw with no words coming forth. Die smirks at me, then uncrosses his arms and holds out one hand. “Come here,” he all but coos at me, in stark contrast to his expression. The look on his face changes then, almost instantly, to something resembling affection, meant to reassure me that everything’s okay.

I swallow audibly and blink from his face to his outstretched fingers and back, but otherwise, I don’t move. I quite frankly can’t.

“Ka-o-ru,” he purrs, then steps closer and I release a pathetic noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. I can’t take my eyes off of him, the way in which he said my name leaves me effectively spell-bound, like it always does.

He advances on me until he’s right in front of me and all I can do is stare up at him from my position on the couch. All there is in my world at this moment is him, my attention focussed solely on the way he looks at me. There is a glimmer in his eyes I have only ever seen a couple of times and just once it was actually directed at me before; when he drunkenly kissed me for the first time.

Die is still holding out his hand for me to take it, and then he says my name again in that magical way he has that makes it sound like so much more than just a pretty name with a pretty meaning. It sounds like a promise, an offering, a declaration of love all at once. I reach out and tangle my short fingers with his delicate ones.

I’m shaking and he squeezes my hand lightly. His smile is quite literally breathtaking; I can feel the air catching in my throat. He leans down and I damn near melt into him as his lips touch mine. It’s a chaste kiss, only the light pressure of lips against lips, and I realise it’s meant to encourage me. I take in a shaky breath through my nose.

It’s not that I don’t want this, and knowing that Die is asking me for it makes the sensations all the more enticing. Heat is spiraling through my body, and the damn butterflies in my belly are sending pleasant shivers through my entire being. But the uncertainty is still there. This is my best friend, a person I have shared almost all of my most private thoughts and a major chunk of my life with, and I’m afraid that if I let this happen, the flame I hold for him will develop into a forest fire, into full-blown head over heels love. And what if he doesn’t feel the same? It would most likely break me, seeing how deep my feelings for him already run.

It’s just sex, I try to tell myself, but my poor heart will have none of that -- it burns unpleasantly in my chest. I simply _know_ that without him, I’d be lost, couldn’t go on. So I’d rather have him as my best friend, longing for him and his touch from afar while he’s aware of the fact, than as a person I’m desperately in love with who’s unable to reciprocate those feelings.

With that thought at the forefront of my mind, I pull back and let my head hang to hide my face behind my bangs. “Die, I’m sorry, I can’t,” I hear myself say in a broken whisper. I feel pathetic and decidedly stupid, denying myself -- both of us -- the pleasure we clearly want. I’m a God damned coward.

His free hand comes to cup my chin and force me to look back up at him, but I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t let him see what’s going on inside of me right now and I don’t want to witness the disappointed look in his eyes either.

“Ka-o-ru,” he says again, his tenor gentle, almost caressing me. Inwardly, I beg him to not do this to me, to spare me. I hate facing my feelings, I can never express them the way I want to, and to be completely honest, all I want to do right now is push them down into the deepest recesses of my being and pile a tonne of bricks on top of them, then drink myself into a stupor. But I open my eyes anyway, because _magic._

There is no disappointment in his gaze. Instead, I see that certain glint in his cinnamon eyes, the spark of affection, and his smile. I whimper again. His thumb runs over my bottom lip gently and then he speaks again. His voice is calm and he sounds certain. “I like you, Kao. More than I should, more than is appropriate, definitely more than a best friend. Ever since we first met all those years ago. I didn’t just want to get in your pants. I wanted to _know_ you.”

My breath catches in my throat, then rushes out in a gasp. I am faintly aware of gaping at him and he chuckles softly before he continues. “I never thought you’d actually feel the same way. But now that we know where we stand…” he lets the sentence hang between us open-ended.

I’m frozen, I can’t even blink. My mind is racing a thousand miles a minute, thinking back to all the times when we were less than appropriate with each other, more intimate than even best friends should be. Every single kiss, every stolen glance, every secret touch. And just like that, it all seems to fall into place and make sense. Regardless, I have to make sure.

His thumb is still running over my lower lip when I start to speak. “You have a…” -- I don’t want to use the word ‘crush’, finding it to be too similar to what a teenage girl would say, and am faintly ashamed I’ve used it to describe my feelings towards Die before, but what I say instead isn’t much (if at all) better, either -- “A _thing_ for me? Really?” I choke out the words, almost stumbling over my own tongue as I try to deliver the line. I do sound like a lovesick highschool girl and I hate it.

If he cares, he doesn’t show it, though. Instead, his smile widens and he nods. “I do, Kao. I really, really do.” His fingers squeeze mine again and this time I reciprocate the gesture. Then, a sudden rush of recklessness grips me -- and it’s reckless, dangerous indeed, to give in to this, even if it’s what we both want; this could go so wrong so quickly; we could lose what we worked so hard to build, our friendship could suffer, and if we’re not careful, so could the band; and that’s perhaps the most scary train of thought I’ve ever had. But still I follow that impulse and reach out with my other hand, pull him down to me by the neck. He doesn’t resist, only hums in a pleased sort of manner against my mouth as I bring our lips together.

His hand falls from my face and he reaches out for my neck instead, his calloused fingertips cause gooseflesh to break out all over my skin as they brush over it. They wander from the side of my neck to the front; there is a gentle pressure on my Adam’s apple that makes me gasp. Then, they return to the back of my neck, his arm comes around my shoulders now and I can feel the couch dip first to the left of me, then to the right. He’s kneeling over me, not quite in my lap so much as hovering above it, straddling me. I lean against the backrest of the couch, forcing him to follow if he doesn’t want our kiss to break -- and he does. Then, I let my fingers close around his sharp hip bones and pull at him to try and get him closer still. He gets the idea and a soft chuckle escapes his plush lips into my mouth as he finally drops down onto my lap and grinds his tiny but firm ass against me.

I moan into our kiss at the feeling of it, my body instantly tries to push up off the couch and rub against him. I’m so hard already; I can feel my cock throb against its confinement as Die grinds down on me once more. I gasp and he catches my tongue with his lips and sucks on it suggestively, then his teeth rake across the slick muscle before he pulls back.

“Tell me you own lube,” he all but groans against my quivering lips, sounding so desperately out of breath and wanton that it makes me moan in the back of my throat.

I try to think for a second, focus on his words, then have to shake my head slightly. I don’t, not anymore. The last time I had a girlfriend was almost a year ago, and she didn’t enjoy anal too much, so we only did it once or twice, before I asked her to not just do things because she thought I wanted them. Because, really, I didn’t. I want my partner to feel good, not forced.

Die’s desperate whine pulls me back to the present. “Too bad,” he sighs and nips on my lips, “We’ll have to put that on the shopping list, then.”

A shiver of anticipation runs through my body at the suggestiveness of his words. Die wants me, and not just for this one time. He really, really wants me -- not that I didn’t believe his  earlier confession. The butterflies tickle my insides and it is all I can do to suppress all the decidedly giddy giggles that want to bubble up from my throat.

I can feel his lips curve into a grin against mine as he kisses me once more, slowly at first, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, he knows what I’ve been thinking just now. I wouldn’t mind, and if his lips weren’t busy occupying mine right now, I’d probably tell him anyway.

Die deepens the contact gradually, coaxes my mouth open and my tongue to meet his halfway, effectively making all thoughts I have beyond anything that concerns him and the things he’s doing to me disappear.

He pulls himself up off my lap after grinding down hard once more, hovering over me. He reaches down and I can feel him fumble around with my belt. He gets it open and proceeds to undo my fly, popping the button on my jeans last. _At_ last, I should say, as I moan lewdly at the release of pressure against my hard-on, the sound drowned out by our kiss, swallowed by his sweet, warm mouth.

I bring my hands to his waist, trying to open the buttons on his fly, but there are three of them and my hands are shaking slightly with all the pent-up need, so that I only manage to get one of them popped after a considerable amount of time. For all I know, it could have been only a couple of seconds, I’ve lost all track of time a while ago, but it’s embarrassing nonetheless. The fact that he chuckles into our kiss doesn’t make it any better, either.

His lips detach from mine and he gives me an intense look that’s all heat and want as I open mine. Then, he starts to kiss along my jawline until he reaches my pulse point while I tilt my head to grant him more access. Momentarily, I forget that I’m supposed to try and open his jeans. His hands come to cover mine and I hear him whisper right below my ear. “Let me help you with that.” His voice is like liquid silk, his plush lips brush against the skin of my neck with every word and I shiver. His fingers guide mine and help with the remaining two buttons, the certainty he’s displaying in every of his movements not simply encouragement, but also a major turn-on for me. We moan in unison as the final button pops and he hooks my fingers under his waistband, encouraging me to push the material down some. I do, and he gasps as his cock is finally freed to the air.

Without even thinking on it for a split second, I reach out and lace my fingers around it -- there is no need for hesitation or false modesty, not when we’re this far along already. He feels different than myself, and I enjoy the feeling of his warm, throbbing dick in my hand, can feel the blood pulsing through it hotly. Slowly, experimentally, I let my fist pump him from tip to base and back again, trying to learn what he likes. On the second upward draw I twist my wrist a little and tighten my grip as I reach the sensitive crown. It makes him moan wantonly and throw his head back, exposing his neck to me. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and my own cock twitches in response to the sounds he’s making.

Die’s hands land on my shoulders, gripping hard as he starts thrusting into my fist, looking down at what he’s doing. He gasps and bites his lip. I can feel the muscles in his pelvis quiver, he must be getting close already. Somehow I knew beforehand that this wasn’t going to be long and drawn out.

Suddenly, his eyes snap up to mine and he grips my wrist hard, stopping my movements. He pushes at my shoulder with his other hand, wordlessly urging me to lean back. I blink confusedly, but comply. My fingers are still around his dick and I can feel it throbbing in need against my skin.

“Fuck, Kao,” he whispers huskily and leans into me. His lips find mine and we kiss wildly, all tongues and teeth and passion. I barely notice anything beyond the feeling of his lips on mine, his slick, pink tongue dancing with my own, and so I release a breathy moan into our kiss as I feel his long fingers wrap around me.

He pumps me, slowly at first, but his pace increases rather quickly. I can’t help any of the noises of pleasure that spill from my throat and into his mouth as I arch up into his touch. My balls are tight and I can feel the peak rapidly coming closer already; his hand on me just feels insanely good. I try to resume my movements over his dick, but he still holds my wrist in a vice-like grip.

Then, Die pries my hand off of his cock and pushes it over his hip, down to his ass. Boldly, I sneak my fingers under the fabric of his jeans and grasp at the firm, warm flesh, making him groan sexily. I pull him closer on my lap. Our erections meet and we both moan wantonly, finally breaking our kiss.

Our faces are so close that I can feel his hot breath on my skin as he keeps gasping for air. Then, Die’s big, warm hand closes around both our erections. I am faintly aware of cursing under my breath at the silky feeling of his cock rubbing against mine as he bucks into his hand. I arch my hips upward, meet his thrusts with my own in the same rhythm.

I feel the heat coiling deep in my core, winding tightly like a spring, hear my blood rushing in my ears. His hand grips us more tightly on each upward movement, pressing the warm, leaking tips of our erections together.

Die quickens the pace, his thrusts becoming more erratic, as he looks down between us, watching what he’s doing. Both of my hands are inside his pants on his ass now, massaging the flesh there, keeping him steady against me as I buck up again and again into his fist, enjoying the sensation of his calloused fingertips and the warm, smooth skin of his dick rubbing against mine.

Then, almost out of nowhere, my balls draw up tightly, I tense and see stars explode before my vision while white-hot bliss engulfs me. I bury my face in the crook of Die’s neck and shoulder as I try to stifle the moan that falls from my lips while I spill my load in thick spurts between us. He gasps and stills all movement for a moment, almost as if he wants to feel me pulse against him. A pleased sound bubbles up from somewhere in his throat; I feel his vocal cords vibrating beneath his delicious skin as my lips close around his Adam’s apple to lightly suck on it.

After only a few seconds, while I’m still emptying myself over his hand and our cocks, he resumes to fuck himself against me. He jerks his hips forward almost frantically, pushes his dick up into his fist, his hand moving up and down our still joined erections once more, in an ever increasing rhythm. It is the sweetest agony. I’m sensitive and slightly overstimulated and at this point, it almost hurts a little, but I couldn’t care less. I want to feel what he felt when I came, want to experience his orgasm like he did mine.

It takes Die but a moment to follow me over the edge into bliss and I have the sense to detach myself from his neck to stare up at his face when it happens. He’s even more beautiful and sexy than usual like this, his eyes closed, mouth hanging slightly open as he releases a deep, throaty moan that seems to reverberate from the walls. I can feel him throb against me as he continues to move through his climax. He spills himself over his hand and my dick and I’m certain I’ve never had anything more erotic happen to me in my entire life.

When he’s spent, Die all but falls forward and into me, panting for air against my neck and shoulder. My hands move from his ass up to the small of his back. I pull him impossibly closer against me, his warm breath ghosts over my jaw as he tries to catch his breath. I let the fingers of one of my hands run up and down his back in a soothing manner. He shivers slightly, causing me to smile a little.

We don’t say anything for a long while, still basking in the afterglow of the high we’ve just experienced. When our breathing has evened considerably, he suddenly chuckles against the skin of my neck which he then starts kissing gently. Then I can hear him whisper just below my ear, “So, how was that for a first time?”

“Definitely worth a repeat performance,” I answer softly, but with an air of confidence. A grin breaks out on my face as I clutch him more tightly to myself and turn my head to look at him. He lifts his chin a little and his eyes meet mine. I can see him mirroring my smile before our lips meet in a slow and sensual kiss. I’m determined to put everything I feel right now into the movement of our lips and tongues; all the love and desire I have for him. And the way he kisses me back suggests that what’s going on inside of him is something quite similar.

He wants me, loves me. I need him like he’s the air I breathe.

It’s a dangerous path we’re treading now, but I’m certain we can make it work. After all, we’re soulmates. Or something like that.

There are a lot more firsts to come, and I’m looking forward to them with anticipation.


End file.
